Mr. Cory Sinsour Mortidor could never set his iris-soul on his youngest son Jork Jr., namly ‘June’ as pertaining to the grim and ill-welcomed presence of the late Mr. Jork Succler Mortidor Sr. (his appearance also jabbed the spheresockets of Mr. Cory) who for eons lay rotting in a parlous living grave sand-castled out of a dimly lit 3rd story sickbed, a room stenching of vomit-drenched rags and uncleaned diapers, reeking of his Grandson’s uncanny resemblance to the feverish neurosis of the oldman installment which functioning as a medical statue for the hands of shaking pissy students to take notes on has taken on cyber mythological relevance via ancient memology c. 2028. Jork having inherited the rare extreme osteoporosis his Grandfather had succumbed to, genetically hopscotching generations, leaving Mr. Cory with little to no side-effect mutations (save a bald spot on his face), exhibited a fateful misfortune so ugly and eyesore, so deepfried, so dank, its absolute categorical destiny was as anticipated gorethread for future worlds to behold, a mythos of sorts to unfold, embodied by elephanting bone growth in the arms, exoskeletal protrusions from the hands as porous bone vesselling outward sporadically giving his limbs the appearance of crab pincers. A crab-boy or a pathetic superhero, the angle his MotherSister Jordy celebrated, was soon the prominent mock of the genetically designed schoolchildren whose notions of the bizarre had dwindled and standards of normalcy inched closer and closer to a upper-middle class suburban perfection. Exacerbating matters further Jork was subject to a fatal and acutely rare disambiguation during his mind upload transfer process, that which was 99.98% fuckup-proof, though the 0.02 percentile rendered a baroque barbeque of the already misfortuned infant discombobulating an anthropomorphic crabsquid villain called ‘Skid’ from an obscure failure of a role-playing VR mobile game from early 2040s installed on the left arm cell-implant of the jerkoff data junky, intestined in sagging parachute shorts and translucent hoodie, a real dickwad nosepicker, streaming porn-interacto-stimuli on his receptor-oggules during the operation resulting in an accidental spillage of microwave falloff input creating interference and permanent irreversible transaction of characteristics. The aftermath result was an ungodly divine fusing of decapod-crustacean into the homo-sapien-sapien-gneta, an amalgam so sinister and grotesque that, without the use of solar focals, one could be temporarily blinded by the nude form of the infant. As cyberlegend has it, many of the medico professionals at Netic Lab left that day with 2nd degree burns and several other less serious injuries, one including trauma to the abdomen resulting in a fractured rib and digibrain damage from the radioactive spillage.
Lawsuits ensued with rapacious rapidfire swiftness as Mr. Mortidor’s Reptilian Attorneys were numerous and inconceivably more clever than any sap or sap-gneta. Swarm warfare tactics and crypto smear campaigns slating buzz-simulators and hi-def hyperrealistic bot-armies, (employed by the Salamandrix Firm) launching disjointed informatic bombardments which would overload and hurl the Netic system into hypnocollapse initiating core meltdown of the architechnical infrastructure upon which so many (ev)operations relied, not to mention the Senior Citizen Bingo Sims being run to occupy the humanoid livestock. The many tendrils of the legal onslaught wormed their way into the vulnerable already diseased innards of the Netic Corporation resulting in a crisis of legitimacy. All mind transplants halted, AI doctors malfunctioned becoming sex-crazed porno-vending-machines, the sleezewad data junkies pillaged the compromised security systematics and milkshaked upon decrypted cipher discharge, the twin hierarchies underwent a violent schism and the Duel NeoMonarch Albino Twins Quentin and Xothor Verminberg waged their own de jurer financial war against each other splitting Netic into two evil twincest cyster corps now known as ZNet and VertiCo which are warring competitors to this day now both (coincidentally) in the business of reanimation of defunct retro AIs sexdolls. The Salamandrix Gangster Lizards suckled Netics cancerous (& numerous) tumortits of every fractal-cent to the point of absolute dryness and dust particle obliteration, it is almost certainly the work of black magick that these new rebound porno-corporata materialized. Topically, it is vital to mention here, ZNet and VertiCo exist shrouded in a much deeper shade of blackness, located somewhere in the innavigatable depths of the spectralized criminal markets sixth sector. Mortidor’s thuggish political legitimacy (of a much Greenish-Grayer locale) castrated the illegal and morally tormented cybernetic biofusion operations of Netic within seconds, and in doing so recastrated the Solar Cock inandouts of the Brain(con)Fusion transplantations, desexing many teenage dustpunk crawlers in the process, and vacuuming a significant portion of the mid-lower populations at the age of cybernetic pubescence. Days later in the tribunal chatroom, an e-cigar bounced in the mouth of Mr. Cory as he historically and sardonically exclaimed: Fuck those dipshit Triclops Solar Hippies. I’ll shove my son’s tentacle up their skullcunts and baarbeque their third eye.
        As for the crab-boy squidkid, the fuck of a creature was preserved and further biologically brutalized by the effects of incest. Mr. Cory Sinsour Mortidor could afford of course to keep the abomination alive, but why? Euthanasia was standard practice among even reasonably functional adults in nearly 211 countries globally as restrictive practices dwindled due to a general consensus of overcrowding. So why? Insurance purposes. The labyrinth of brokerages Mr. Cory could prostitute outward from his disabled mutation of a fourth son was infinite and untraceable, a schematic of an inverted pyramid is the closest an artist could come to representing it visually. A forcefully sharp blustery of scandals emerged from the conspiratorial bureaucratic genius of Mr. Cory, among them a complete gutting and overhaul of legitimated disability foundations, rampage clickbait campaigns wielding headlines such as The Heartbreaking Osteoporosis of the Crabchild, or The Crustacean Sensation Claws the Heart of a Nation or The Exoskeleton of the Mortidor Family (also the title of a popular fanfiction piece posted to Eekslum.sex presently being adaped into a websoapopera) or Crabkid is Welcomed Back to the Sea including a photograph of Jork at the beach with his relatively normal looking family, shopping Jork Sr. sipping gasoline-cocksnails under brightgreen umbrella out of the image. A memetic mythos fashioned by a mob of online brat-hackers exploiting the shopped profile pics stolen from Jorks several social media accounts, threading Jork as a captionable idiot meme format. Getting ‘Jorked’ has become vernacular popular among youth, and statistics show the meme is highly transversable and conceptually elastic enough to sustain for the next 4 years in at least relative relevancy.